


Wrong Shade of Red

by Daytona444



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Asexual Character, Compliant up to ep 4, M/M, Rare Pairings, Riverdale look what you made me do, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9874235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daytona444/pseuds/Daytona444
Summary: Jason Blossom has never wanted to be anyone else before. People want to be him, not the other way around, as his sister reminds him so helpfully on a daily basis. But when Jughead Jones captures his attention, he wishes he was a different Riverdale redhead.He really just wishes loving Jughead didn't feel like a cage where he gladly gave away the key.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've always been an Archie fan and I'm pleasantly surprised by Riverdale's adaptation. I never shipped this pair before, but there's just something about the way Jason Blossom looks at Jughead in episode 2 and then when Cheryl mentions how much Jason loved the drive-in... well, this little plot baby just wouldn't leave my head. So here you go!
> 
> Also, side note completely not related to this, but I'll be really disappointed if they ship Jughead and Betty together romantically on the show. I've always enjoyed their friendship in the comics and feel it's important to keep that relationship platonic, but whatever. I get why they would.
> 
> Feedback is always lovely, so let a girl know how she did.
> 
> Some music recommendations while reading:  
> In for the Kill - Billie Marten  
> Heavy In Your Arms - Florence and the Machine  
> Fourth of July - Fallout Boy

 

There’s two things I, Jason Blossom, am certain of my sophomore year: I’ll never be Archie Andrews and drive-ins really are the worst place to hook up.

I don’t know which of the two I’m more disheartened by.

His body is more solid than I expected under all those layers he wears, but he’s still something lithe. Something breakable. He rarely likes to be touched and will push my hands away without question when he’s in a mood. But sometimes, sometimes he’ll let me worship him with little licks and caresses that are a dim light to the sunshine I want to press into his skin. Those nights are hardest because I know he only allows it because he misses _him_.

I love and hate those nights.

At school, we agreed to stick to our social groups, playing the parts they’ve cast us, but sometimes I can persuade him into a bathroom or an empty corner for a stolen moment of privacy. It’s not always for a kiss, because he gives those out like precious gifts, but just being near him can calm down my inner restlessness. Sometimes one of his amused looks that border on boredom is enough to get me through the day, leaving me aching until I must relieve the tension in football practice instead of the way I want.

Going into this _arrangement_ , he told me it wouldn’t be what I wanted, that he couldn’t give me what I was used to taking from others. How romance held no thrill for him and sex even less so. He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get that I notice underneath all that sardonic humor he’s hiding a sensitivity I want to cradle close. I want his softness as well as his sharp angles. He doesn’t get that besides my sister, his snappish quips are the only times I genuinely laugh. I save my true smiles for him.

Cheryl thinks I’m crazy. Well, in her terms, idiotic.

“Are you out of your beautiful mind? Your life hasn’t become some teen dramedy and Jughead is the wallflower you want to make prom queen, right?” Cheryl had said when I finally told her, spread out on her bed like a model in Teen Vogue.

“He already wears a crown.”

She had wrinkled her nose at my comment, but didn’t say anything else about it. We both know how much more her silences say.

>>>>>>>> 

The drive-in smells like dirt and buttered popcorn. I hate how that smell gets my heart fluttering and my lips tingling with the promises of affection. I’m conditioned, like a damn Pavlovian dog and it’s too late to leave the experiment.

“Don’t your mindless groupies ever wonder why you disappear for most of the movie?” Jughead whispers in my ear, making me shiver. I’m on top of him, my clothed hips pressing him into the small cot he’s made for himself in the reel room, but his bored voice makes me feel like I’m the one being held down.

“They think I’m hooking up with some girl.” I trail soft kisses down his neck, wondering how far he’ll let me get before he makes me stop. “It’s no big deal.”

Jughead immediately tenses underneath me and all I want to do is take back my words. I want to hold onto moments before when his eyes were soft with what I’ll tell myself is affection because I couldn’t stand if it was pity.

“Well as tasteless as hooking up sounds, I suppose there are worse words.” He reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair while his other hand slips under my shirt to stroke down my bare back, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

I breathe a sigh of relief and kiss his cheek before moving my lips to cover his, sucking on his bottom lip. The only light in the room is from the projector but I can still count his lashes as they sweep closed.

“Archie and I are going on a road trip. Fourth of July weekend.” Jughead murmurs against my lips, his tone as bland as if he was commenting on the weather, but I know better. This is my punishment. Summer isn’t for months and he has no other reason to tell me except to exact revenge the only way he knows how.

I’m not sure if I’m in trouble because of the hooking up comment or because I offered him money again. He doesn’t talk about his family much, but I know he’s been living at the drive-in for some time and money has never been an issue for me, so I tend to want to throw it around. I should know better by now. He doesn’t handle handouts well unless it’s in the form of food, which I make sure to exploit. Jughead must think Pop is so generous with all the free food he gives him, but I keep an open tab there that he’ll never know about. It’s the least I can do.

Except now I’ve managed to fuck up again. Instead of commenting, I kiss him harder and he lets me, pushing thoughts of Archie Andrews out like a bad taste in my mouth.

>>>>>>>> 

It ends the way it began, with Jughead’s guarded eyes and me pushing like a guy that doesn’t take a hint.

“What did I do this time?” I stuff my hands in my pockets so I won’t reach out to him. I’m sick of being the weak one here.

“We knew this had an expiration date.” He shrugs. Fucking shrugs like he’s not holding my heart, squeezing it until all the blood wrings out like a dirty washcloth after a quick cleanup job.

“I didn’t,” I deny, even though I knew. I’ve always known, but I secretly hoped his infatuation with his childhood friend would have at least lessened a little bit. That I would at least become more than just a distraction until Archie came around.

Jughead’s eyes speak my fears for me while he tugs on his beanie. A king adjusting his crown before he deals the final blow. “I’ll never want you the way you want me.”

He leaves after that. The slam of the gym locker room door shattering the silence but not the pounding in my ears. The thump-a-thump that proves my heart is still trapped in my chest. That he didn’t carry it out with him as a parting gift.

>>>>>>>> 

Polly Cooper has always followed me around like the guardian angel I didn’t want. It was easy to ask her out on a date and even easier to get under her skirt. The guys on the football team gave me a 9 in their silly book for snagging her, but seemed happy that I was finally back to my old self. Apparently, there had been talks of an intervention because I hadn’t shown interest in anyone or anything for weeks. If only they knew.

Cheryl’s the only one who really knows what happened and in true Cheryl fashion, she offers to kill Jughead and bury “his ungrateful excuse for a supporting character in their real-life drama”. I wave her off and continue to hook up with Polly, because even if I'm not interested, at least it’s something warm to sink into when everything else feels so cold.

That is until not even her soft beauty and gentle grace can warm me up anymore. It ends badly. Worse than with Jughead because unlike him, Polly is surprisingly prone to dramatics. A week later, rumors spread that she’s been shipped off to a mental hospital after a suicide attempt.

I know I should feel guilty, but all I can think about is how jealous I am that at least she’s escaped Riverdale. I’m the one stuck passing by Jughead when I walk down the halls every day and pretend I don’t notice the amused tilt of his head or the way he judges everything around him like he’s so much better. How above us all he really is.

I hate that I still want to hold that throne up high for him to sit on.

It isn’t until June that I tell Cheryl I need to leave, the feeling of suffocation too great to ignore anymore. She throws a fit, as expected, but I’m the only thing she loves more than herself and we both know it. She’d do anything for me, no questions asked. We have it all planned and for the first time in months, my chest feels a little lighter. The weekend of the fourth of July will be my last in Riverdale. How fitting it’s the same weekend as Jughead and Archie’s precious road trip.

After the fourth, I’ll never have to look back and wonder if he’d come around. I already know the answer.

The night before we’re set to leave, I make Cheryl stop by the drive-in one last time. She wants to protest, but her ruby lips press together instead. I creep around toward the small rectangular building, hoping he hasn’t left yet. The smell of dirt and buttered popcorn make me lick my lips. Jughead’s there -of course he is- hidden away in his safe haven of old film reels, stories told hundreds of times. If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he looks expectant, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

There’s so much I want to say, but he won’t care to listen, so I just cradle his jaw as if holding an injured bird before my lips crash into his, too rough to be anything but desperate. He doesn’t understand my passion or desire, he’s expressed that before, but for a moment I try to make him understand. That when I slip my fingers under his beanie to touch his hair, I’m saying I missed you. That when I suck on his lower lip, I’m saying please love me back because I’ll never love anyone like I love you. That when I slip my tongue in his mouth to catch his, I’m saying goodbye and remember me, the only way I know how.

I pull away before he can push me off. Staring at him, I notice the pinkening of his cheeks and the shortness of his breath and for a moment I hope, but I know this is all we’ll have. So, I leave.

I leave the drive-in and the boy who rules it with my head held high. I leave my king behind in hopes of finding a new kingdom.


End file.
